bobby, magician, my nemesis

i don’t know where this belongs, it’s just fucked me up and i felt like writing it.
i never understood what was wrong with me, every one seemed to think there was somthing, but they wouldn’t tell me what. the medication only seemed to make me drousey and retarded, i took it if it’ll shut all those mother fuckers up that wanna change me, maybe it’ll be for the best if i charge and conform to zombie form.
any way, i got home from college one day, and i was all alone, as per usual. and i stood in the middle of my room, alone.
“look at you” i thought what have you atchieved in 17 years? Nothing. fucking jack!” i thought “nah man, this isn’t me, i’m fine man” “no you’re not” i replied. “what kinda faggoty ugly little butt fuck are you, the only girlfriend you ever had hates you, i mean, you’re not even a good person” ” no, shut up!”
i punched my self in the chin. “you’re weak too” a breif silence then “fucking pussy” that echoed in my mind. the other me had taken over again, bobby as he once called him self. it had never happened twice in one day before. oh well, once i’m locked up in runwell it’ll be happening all the time, i’ll have to get used to it.
i remained standing in the middle of room, waiting for him to come back, i know, if i wait for him, he won’t come back.
30 minutes went past, still alone.
it was hot, so i took my shirt off. i wonder what she’s doing right now. probably with that new guy, lucky fucker. if only i was loved again.
i let my guard down, i noticed out the corner of my eye the room twich and heard the wind behind me, but i felt nothing against my back.
i blinked and all the furniture was painted against the wall, nothing was there any more, only pretented to be, just like all the people who thought they knew me and thought they were in my life.
i was scared. like a little kid. i didn’t want to move.
the left wall moved towards me, i turned towards it. but heard the right wall moving closer behind me. the walls were trying to kill me. they closed in, the room was about five foot by five foot and then the ceiling started caving in on me. i curled up into a ball and closed my eyes.
when i opened them again i was completly sounded by brick. no way out, and no knife for sucicide. looks like i’ll have to wait ’til i starve to death.
then i realised, this was god, or what ever all powerful ass hole who controls me and the whole fucking universe, was doing to punish me for being such a bad person. it was my fault.
i got so angery with my self, and punched the now very small cieling in anger. it cracked, and in poored a black ooze, it covered the floor, but didn’t cover me. then for some reason i became scared of death, once again, just like a kid. i said “help”, then shouted “help me” then bobby said, “no one can help you, you’re going to die and burn in hell.”
i started screaming and screaming as the ooze got up to my neck. my dads voice said my name.
i kept screaming, and took what a thought was my last breath. i closed my eyes and waited for death, he put my hands on my shoulders and said to me ” the med isn’t working, is it?”
unfortunatly, it wasn’t death, but that night i prayed the next time i had a vision like that, it would be.